stars and terrain (zayn malik)

Chapter 67

"If you could just get those two measurements down by the shoot that would be perfect!"

They deliver this news sandwiched in between a lot more instructions as if it will be just as simple as arriving to the shoot location at six in the morning.

Oh yes, and take a few inches off your hips and stomach in the next few days as well.

I mumble a goodbye and toss my phone on to the side table by the lounge chair I'm reclining in, glancing down at my bikini-clad body. I'd always had a fairly healthy relationship with it, but now I'm scrutinizing the way a tiny bit of skin pushes over the sides of the black bikini bottoms and how my belly button rises a tiny bit at the bottom where a thin layer of fat sits.

Harry's head bobs up and out of the pool water and he paddles in the direction of my chair.

"What's the latest?"

"My shoot is on Friday." I contemplate how much I want to tell Harry.

I really want to tell Zayn. To whine that these evil people are requesting I lose weight, and how am I supposed to finish the last few pieces of my pizza in the fridge if I have to worry about getting an inch off of my hips? But I can't. Because I still haven't really told him I'm going through with the shoot.

And Alli's on a European vacation with her newest boy toy and Holly is with Zayn so I can't talk to her about this. Harry's all I've got right now.

"They want me to lose a couple inches," I admit.

He looks confused, obviously not privy to model lingo.

"Y'know, round the middle," I gesture to my stomach and he laughs loudly.

When I don't join in he stops, eyebrows knocking into each other. "Oh, you're serious?"

I nod. "Wish I wasn't."

"Do they realize how much you eat, donut? They should be sending you to a laboratory to be studied for being that skinny."

"Well it's not skinny enough for a swimsuit shoot, apparently," I sigh. "Looks like I'm going to need someone who knows a lot about nutrition to whip me into shape."

Harry grins. "Well, they're absolutely mad and wrong about that. But you know I'd love you to eat healthier, so I'll help you."

"Thanks."

Harry then went back to swimming laps and I watched, envying him. I was figuring out the reason he felt so easy to be around might be because he's so comfortable in his own skin. He was just happy and content all the time because he was absolutely unapologetic about himself as a person.

He wore baggy sweaters, loud patterned blouses that looked like it came straight from the closet of a grandmother, or a shirt so low cut you could almost see his belly button. And he didn't care. That's what he felt comfortable in. If he wanted to mark up his skin with ridiculous, frivolous things, that's what he did. Because he wanted to.

With Harry, it was all about doing things how he wanted to, without a second thought about anyone else's opinion. Ever.

I wanted that to rub off on me.

"Harry, I'm hungry." I whined, once he finished swimming back and forth at least a dozen times. "And all I want to do is eat my leftovers."

"All I want to do is throw them away," Harry replies, toweling off once he's out of the pool. "I'll fix you something healthy."

I pull on one of Zayn's black shirts as we head back into the house and I appoint myself as DJ with Harry's iTunes while he puts together a salad.